Where Loyalties Lie
by evilmynx
Summary: After losing the farm, they thought that they were safe. Woodbury was a haven, too good to be true in a world filled with corpses feasting on the living. Of course, when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Based on a question posed on the Talking Dead - "What would have happened if the group had encountered Woodbury first, instead of the prison?" Caryl, AU, Multi-ch
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: The Walking Dead universe isn't mine. The characters aren't mine. I just invited them over for tea and this is what happened.**

Carol hadn't meant for it to come out the way that it did.

It had all been too much. Within the space of several hours they'd lost everything they'd worked so hard to protect. They'd lost the farm. They'd lost more people.

Good people. Andrea had sacrificed her life so that Carol could get away.

And then, Rick had dropped the final bombs on their already shell-shocked state.

He'd killed Shane.

They were all infected.

Her world had only just started to make sense again, and now it was crashing back down around her.

So what came out of her mouth at that first campfire was partly a knee jerk reaction.

She might be a burden, but Daryl was no henchman.

She had wanted to apologize to him the moment the words had left her mouth, but then he'd asked her what she wanted. And instead of telling him that she didn't mean it, she'd answered with the words that had replaced 'henchman' in her thoughts.

"A man of honor."

He hadn't spoken to her since, but for the third morning in a row she had awakened to the familiar weight of his jacket draped over her narrow frame to block the chill of sleeping outside in the open.

He had accepted her softly murmured "thank you" with a slight nod as she had handed the worn leather garment back to him each day.

And when he had mounted his motorcycle and looked at her, she had taken her place behind him without a word passing between the two of them.

That was the way of things between the two of them. Words were awkward and easy to misunderstand. Actions were clear and concise, an understandable language entirely their own.

It still didn't make her regret what she had said any less, and it certainly didn't make it any easier to break the silence between them.

Carol pondered all of these things as the remaining members of the group made their way down yet another deserted stretch of highway, looking for shelter and supplies to replace the meager possessions that they'd had to abandon. The herd of walkers that had driven them from the farm was long behind them, but the stragglers were by no means gone. Every so often, Daryl would lean the bike to the side, giving wide berth to a lurching, snapping corpse shambling down the center of the road, and she would lean with him, hands fisted into the sides of his jacket, eyes trained just over his shoulder, straight ahead.

She'd lost count of how many walkers they'd passed on by in this manner. Nothing else mattered but the next stop, the next meal, the next safe haven for a chance to rest, even if it was just for a few fitful hours before they moved on.

The sound of a car horn from the rear of their group brought her out of her thoughts and back to the here and now. Daryl slowed the bike and turned them around, riding back to where the rest had stopped and were getting out of their vehicles. As soon as he came to a stop, she dismounted, her hand lingering on his shoulder just a moment longer than necessary when her feet touched the pavement.

He didn't shrug her hand away, but stiffened nonetheless at the brief contact.

Carol sighed and walked away from him then, looking for Lori and Maggie as the rest of the group gathered around the hood of the car that Glenn had been driving.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, taking a spot next to Maggie as Daryl drifted up behind her.

"Glenn spotted a house back off the road a ways, quarter of a mile back," Maggie informed her. "Might be worth checking out."

"There were a few walkers, but it didn't look like anything we can't handle," Glenn added.

Carol looked to Rick as the leader's eyes found Daryl's. She watched the silent exchange between the two of them, expecting and not disappointed when Daryl's nonchalant shrug was the only answer Rick received.

"Okay then," Rick nodded. "Glenn, you, T-Dog, and Daryl go back and check it out. The rest of us will stay here. Usual drill. Be careful."

The three men headed for T-Dog's truck quickly, Glenn taking the passenger seat and Daryl jumping into the truck bed, crossbow poised and ready for whatever came next. He glanced back at her once, and she nodded to him.

_Be careful. Stay safe._

He nodded back as the truck pulled away.

"Well, I suppose we should see if there's anything useful to scavenge," Maggie sighed, looking to the sparse collection of abandoned cars on the opposite side of the road. The group had avoided the interstate as they had fled, keeping to the secondary highways and back roads. It made for easier traveling, but the pickings were also slimmer when it came time to look for supplies.

"It's always worth a look," Carol replied, accepting the crowbar that the young woman offered her, both as a weapon and a way of breaking into locked vehicles. Rick and Hershel were already moving towards a truck further down the road. Beth and Carl were doing the same. The only one not moving was Lori, who hung over a guard rail retching up what little food she'd eaten at breakfast that morning.

Carol shook her head and followed Maggie across the road, wondering if the baby would even survive. They needed more food than the little that they'd found so far. She knew better than to think the pre-natal vitamins the pregnant woman was taking were even staying in her system, when Lori couldn't keep anything else down. Pregnancy was hard enough before the world had ended.

Now… she didn't even want to think about it.

Carol turned her attention to the minivan that Maggie was casing. The young woman had looked in all of the windows and was now trying her luck with the hatch at the rear. Carol joined her just as the latch gave way, rear door flying up and revealing a sizable cache of promising looking grocery bags.

"Jackpot!" Maggie exclaimed, and Carol grinned, pulling bag after bag out of the vehicle while Maggie climbed cautiously over the back seat to see what other treasures the van might contain. She wasn't disappointed. "Blankets and water! And clothes!"

"Any soap?" Carol called hopefully.

"No," Maggie replied. "Too bad, too. I think we all need a bath."

"I know I do," Carol agreed, chuckling for the first time in days. "I'm starting to smell like a walker."

"Join the club," Maggie quipped, sliding open the side door of the van and jumping out.

The pair worked quickly and wordlessly from then on, knowing that their time was limited, scanning their surroundings for any signs of trouble. It seemed like hardly no time at all had passed when those who had stayed behind started loading what they could into Hershel's truck and Glenn's car.

"We'll have to leave the rest for T-Dog's truck," Rick said, looking at the sizeable pile still sitting on the road, and then back in the direction that Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl had disappeared in.

"Can't be helped," Hershel nodded. "We lucked out."

"We did," Carol agreed. She started to say more, but the familiar sound of T-Dog's truck rumbling down the road stopped her words in her throat. It was only when the truck finally came into view that she let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Daryl hopped out of the truck bed and nodded to Rick. "Let's go."

They wasted no time in loading up the rest of the supplies, and when Carol joined him again on the back of the bike, he finally broke the silence between them.

"Ain't no castle, but it's safe," he grumbled, turning his head just enough so that she could see the corner of his lip turning up in a smirk.

She smiled and relaxed.

"I never said you weren't a man of honor, Daryl Dixon," she murmured as he started the bike.

If he heard her, he didn't reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: The Walking Dead universe isn't mine. The characters aren't mine. I just lured them over to the dark side by promising them cookies.**

It was on a particularly frigid night three months later that Carol woke up from yet another nightmare that she couldn't remember. Shivering from cold and fear, she burrowed deeper under her thin blankets and tried to muffle her sobs with her fist so that she didn't disturb the others. They were in yet another house, this one being more of a shack, with only one bedroom and a main living space that included a kitchenette. All of the furniture had been shoved against the walls to make room for their bedding, and they all slept as close together as possible to conserve body heat.

Beth slept on her left, curled into a ball against her father's back. To her right, the blankets were empty, and she was grateful for that in spite of the cold. Daryl was outside on watch, then, and her sudden night terror wouldn't be the cause of yet another awkward moment between the two of them.

She hadn't asked him to start bedding down next to her at night, and he hadn't asked her if she minded. But as the nights had grown steadily colder and their shelter options became less than optimal, the tracker had taken to laying out his sleeping bag next to hers. This wasn't her first bad dream since he'd starting sleeping so close to her and it wouldn't be the last, but she hated the fact that she had managed to disturb what little sleep Daryl did get every time she woke up crying.

In several cases, it had been screams.

To his credit, he had never gotten angry with her, but she was painfully aware of how uncomfortable her sleeping patterns made him. Most nights he would roll over, back to her, with his pillow jammed over his head. But on some nights, particularly the bad ones, he would place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently, whispering gruffly, "Calm down, woman. Yer safe. Everthin's alright."

It wasn't much, but it helped.

Daryl always took first watch and always refused when someone else offered to let him get a full night's sleep for once. He was always up before dawn on the days that they were staying put, spending hours outside hunting to fill the group's empty stomachs, trying to stretch what food they had managed to find that much further.

As the months had worn on, the dark circles under his eyes had grown more pronounced, and his clothes seemed to hang looser than anyone else's, even though they were all losing weight at an alarming rate. Carol fretted between Daryl, Lori, and Carl, always saving the largest portions of the meals she cooked for them, even it meant taking less than her own share. She knew that they needed it the most, and she wasn't going to burden the rest of the group further by taking food out of the mouths of the people who needed it.

Daryl had caught on to this rather quickly, though, and usually scraped some of his food back into her bowl. "Stop starvin' yerself. We ain't dyin' yet," and he refused to take her emphatic no's for an answer.

This was how she calmed herself down when she woke up crying in the dead of night. She thought about how close they were all becoming, in spite of how damaged they'd been after the farm. She counted the blessings, what little she could number. The day that Daryl and come traipsing back into camp dragging a fat buck a little over a month ago. The ammunition they'd found hidden under a bed in a house when their supply of bullets was all but gone. The tanker full of gasoline still sitting next to a convenience store when they'd encountered another herd and had to double back the way they had come. The day that Lori's pregnancy had finally started to show, giving them all hope that the baby might just make it into this world after all, however dreadful that world might be.

Carol had just started to drift back to sleep when the sound of the front door opening and closing started her back awake. She shuddered at the colder air that breezed through the room, listening intently as the sound of boots on the rough wooden floor crossed the room. The bedroom door creaked open and she heard Daryl call for Rick to come take his turn on watch. The Grimes family had been the only ones to take up residence in that room, and no one begrudged Lori for needing to sleep in a real bed whenever possible.

Moments later, Daryl was shuffling back across the room, dropping wearily to the floor, and not even bothering to unlace his boots as he threw back the edge of his sleeping bag and crawled into the empty space beside her. She rolled over from her back to her side, facing him.

"How was watch?" she whispered, her words carrying just far enough for him to hear.

For a moment, he didn't answer her, and she thought he'd already fallen asleep.

"Took out three walkers," he finally muttered. "Gonna have to move on in the morning. Sorry I woke ya."

"I was already awake," she sighed, and winced when she heard his sharp intake of breath. He knew why she was awake. Of course he did.

"Well, try ta get some sleep," he whispered, thankfully choosing to ignore the obvious. "We'll be leavin' at first light."

"Okay," she breathed, resigning herself to what was coming in the morning. "'Night, Daryl."

His only answer was a soft snore.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: The Walking Dead universe isn't mine. The characters aren't mine. I just asked them to come to dinner and they decided to tell me a story.**

They had taken shelter in an old barn some four months after losing the farm. The irony was not lost on a single member of the ragtag group of refugees, although no one had spoken the words aloud. Instead, they had worked to stack bales of hay against the walls, blocking out the freezing cold and damp. The winter had been unforgiving thus far, showering them with sleet, snow, and freezing rain. The saving grace had been that the freezing temperatures had also slowed the walkers.

By Hershel's calculations, they were well into the New Year. Christmas had come and gone without anyone being the wiser, and Carol was guiltily happy for it. She certainly hadn't needed the reminder of a holiday better left in the past, now that the world had moved on and Sophia was gone. Her only regret was that their small family had missed an opportunity to grow even closer.

She missed Dale in those moments. He would have been the one, out of all of them, to point out that they still needed Christmas. Traditions were important.

But Dale was dead. And the dead now roamed the world and ate the living.

No, Christmas was better left in the past, but Carol still thought that their group deserved something.

So she plotted carefully, biding her time and gathering her gifts as they had come to her.

It wasn't easy. Runs were still hazardous. Not so much because of the walkers, but because of the weather, and she rarely got the opportunity to take part. When she did, she looked out for the little things. Soft yarn to knit a blanket for Lori's coming baby. A new pair of boots for Carl, who had entered another growth spurt and was quickly outgrowing his sparse wardrobe. A bracelet for Beth , who spoke little but doted on her father to the point that Carol often had to turn away, tears threatening to ruin a perfectly peaceful moment that didn't need her added drama.

And finally, a woolen poncho for Daryl. It wasn't something that she expected him to be happy about. She had chosen it more for the utilitarian purposes it would give him. Easy access to his crossbow. Warmth. A measure of protection against the dampness that unforgiving Georgia winters relentlessly rained down upon its residents, whether the world had ended or not.

She had carefully hidden away each treasure that she gleaned, biding her time until she had something for each of them, and it wasn't until yet another herd of walkers had driven them to flee again that she'd distributed her gifts without bothering to clue them in.

For his part, Daryl had all but surrendered his old leather jacket to Carol in favor of the poncho she'd gifted him with. She hadn't been expecting anything from him in return, but if that was his way of reciprocating, she wasn't arguing. It certainly kept the bite of the cold winter air away from her skin as they had traveled on.

February into March.

March into April.

April into May.

Eight months after the loss of the farm, sometime in the beginning of June, the group finally braved sleeping out in the open again. It wasn't coincidence.

It was kismet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I lay no claim to The Walking Dead or its characters. I can't help it if they talk to me inside my head.**

_**A/N: I hate A/Ns but I feel that I owe you all an apology for the gap. My Muse is a fickle thing and the season finale of the show really messed with it. So it took a vacation. Sorry. I'll try to keep it in line in the future.**_

Winter had pushed so far into spring that Carol was secretly questioning whether or not Hershel had been counting the days correctly. She had never remembered June nights being so cold, and it worried her that they were having to camp out in the open again. They were nearly out of food, and Lori was due to have her baby any day.

The last three houses that they had sheltered in were surrounded by walkers within hours. The house that they'd tried to take shelter in that morning had lasted twenty whole minutes before T-Dog had spotted a herd approaching out of one of the windows.

They had ran out the back door and hadn't looked back, but as the afternoon wore on, with no suitable shelters presenting themselves, Rick had called for a stop for the night so that they could regroup and plan their next move.

"At least we found tents," Carol sighed, stirring together the last two cans of baked beans and lighting the propane cook stove. Lori settled herself into a lawn chair beside her and groaned uncomfortably.

"I don't know about you, but I sure do miss that beat up old RV of Dale's," the pregnant woman confided. "Not looking forward to sleeping on the ground tonight. We don't have a forklift handy to pick me back up."

Carol chuckled. "I'm sure the boys could rig something up to get you back up and moving if it comes to that."

"With what? A paper clip and a wad of bubble gum?" Lori smirked. "I think MacGyver's probably dead by now."

"That guy ain't got nothin' on our group, Lori," Carol said softly, wondering how she was going to stretch two measly cans of beans amongst the ten of them. As if on cue, a string of furry creatures landed on the tailgate which Carol was using as a makeshift kitchen next to the stove.

"Who's on watch?" Daryl growled. He glanced at Carol quickly before scanning the campsite to assess the current state of affairs. Glenn and Maggie were in the process of erecting tents as Beth and Hershel tended a fledgling campfire. T-Dog and Carl were on wood gathering duty, which left Rick on watch. The ex-cop was currently situated on top of Hershel's old SUV, and he acknowledged Daryl with a wave before turning to scan their surroundings once more.

Carol hid a smile as the redneck glanced down at the pan she was stirring.

"Beans again?" he bit into his thumbnail and wrenched the string of squirrels back off the tailgate in the same motion. "Better post an extra person on watch. Those geeks are gonna smell this camp from miles away."

He took off to clean his kill without another word, leaving Lori staring and Carol giggling.

"So crude," Lori clucked.

Carol couldn't help herself, bursting into full out laughter. "You should be used to it by now," she admonished, wiping tears away from her eyes.

"I'll never get used to Daryl Dixon," Lori muttered. "That man was raised by a pack of wolves."

"We ever find that pack of wolves, I'm writing them a thank-you letter," Carol replied. "We'd be dead by now without him hunting for us."

"I think wolves have a more varied palate than all you can eat squirrel," Lori complained wrinkling her nose.

"Maybe so," Carol agreed. "But we haven't died of starvation. That's mostly thanks to Daryl. I'm not complaining."

She chose to ignore Lori's snort of a reply, chalking it up to pregnancy hormones. The woman might forget her manners sometimes, but Carol refused to believe that she was that rude. Especially in such desperate times. She continued to stir the beans, knowing Daryl would be back shortly with the meat that would tide them over until tomorrow.

* * *

With dinner done and the campfire burning low, it was time to call it a night. Rick was passing out watch duty when sleeping quarters came into question. Four tents between the ten of them weren't ideal for privacy or security.

"Carol, why don't you bed down with Lori and Carl for the night? I can take first watch and alternate with Daryl and T-Dog in the fourth tent." Rick knew that separating Maggie and Glenn or Hershel and Beth was out of the question.

"Ain't necessary, Rick," Daryl spoke up before Carol could. "She's bunking with me and T-Dog."

To Carol's surprise, Lori shot Daryl a grateful look from across the campfire, but she immediately grabbed Carl and left the fire circle without a word to Rick.

"You sure about that, Carol?" Rick asked, as if he were totally unaware that she'd been sleeping next to Daryl since shortly after they had been forced to flee the Greene farm so many months ago.

"I don't see a problem with it," she nodded. "Better that Lori and Carl were close to you on our first night out in the open again, and Daryl and T-Dog won't let anything happen to me. I wouldn't even mind a turn at watch. Maybe closer to morning, so I can get breakfast going for everyone." She snuck a glance at Daryl, who gave her a brief bob of his head in approval.

"I'll take that watch with Carol," he agreed. "Need to go huntin' again in the morning."

"Alright then. T-Dog and Hershel have first watch, followed by Glenn and Maggie, then you and Carol," Rick nodded to Daryl. "Let's get some sleep, people. We'll discuss our next move in the morning."

* * *

Carol wasn't surprised to find her bedroll and bag laid out next to Daryl's in the tent that they were sharing with T-Dog. She wasted no time in pulling off her shoes and crawling into her sleeping bag, not even bothering to change into something different for sleeping. She'd given up on pajamas shortly after the world had ended, and her daytime clothes tended to be warmer anyway.

Daryl, for his part, took off his boots and started cleaning his crossbow by lantern light. This too, had become a familiar ritual.

Carol watched him for a few minutes before yawning and rolling over, trying to find some sleep where sleep could be found.

"Ya a'right?" he asked quietly, a few moments later.

She rolled back over and studied him in the flickering light, knowing that it wasn't concern for her that caused him to ask. Something was bothering him. She could tell by the way his brow furrowed with more concentration than it took to be wiping down his weapon with a rag. He was carefully avoiding her gaze, and his body was tense. She knew he had something to say, but wasn't quite sure how to reply to get him to come right out and say it.

She'd learned this by trial and error over the winter months. Their language had developed from simple glances into something infinitely more complex. It hadn't been easy, getting Daryl to talk to her at first, and she'd thought it had just been him looking out for her well-being. But as time wore on, Carol had realized that he was trying to communicate in his own backwards way. So she'd learned how to listen to him. It wasn't just what he said to her, it was how he said it. He said more to her with his body language than he did with his mouth.

When she didn't reply immediately, Daryl gave her a sidelong glance and scowled. "Cat got yer tongue, woman?"

She sighed and sat up. "No," she said softly, leveling him with a look that said he'd better spill it. The direct approach didn't always work, but she was too tired to play games tonight. "What's bothering you, Daryl?"

He shrugged, looking away and continuing to polish the crossbow absently. Carol waited, knowing he would either speak or he wouldn't.

"Ya ain't mad at me, are ya?" he finally asked in a low voice. "Ya know, for tellin' Rick you was sleepin' in here."

Carol watched his neck flush red as her jaw dropped. This was what was troubling him? Of all the things that she might have thought was on his mind, this was a surprise, and she wasn't immediately sure how to answer him. She watched as he turned an even darker shade of red, the color creeping up into his cheeks, and finally, his ears.

"Well?" he growled. "Ain't got all night. If you wanna sleep in the tent with Lori, better get packin'."

"What?" Carol was still in shock. Her brain was racing to find the right words, but apparently it wasn't fast enough for Daryl's liking.

"I know ya damn well heard me," he bit out angrily. "If ya don't wanna be here, ain't no one holdin' ya down."

"Daryl Dixon, shut your mouth!" she finally found her voice, and discovered she was indeed angry at him, but not for the reason he thought that she was.

He looked up at her then, meeting her glare openly, his mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and something malicious.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she snapped at him. "You should know by now that I don't sleep unless I know you're right here next to me!"

It was Daryl's turn to look surprised as Carol clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified. She hadn't even admitted that fact to herself, and even if she had, she certainly wouldn't have told him.

But it was true.

Ever since he'd started bedding down next to her at night, she'd slept easier. Despite the nightmares, the cold, and the fear of walkers, just knowing he was within arm's reach if things went south had been an immense comfort to her. She knew that there were deeper implications to Daryl's original question, but her brain shifted into damage control mode as she watched the color drain from his face and his jaw go slack.

Carol figured that Daryl was probably seconds from storming out of the tent and avoiding her for the next month, and she wouldn't blame him. She couldn't help the nervous giggle that escaped from behind her hand, which was still covering her mouth, any more than she could help what spilled out of her mouth immediately after the giggle.

"And here I was, thinking you'd set all this up because you wanted to fool around. Pretty romantic, what with T-Dog on watch and the tent all to ourselves." She couldn't help herself, wagging her eyebrows at him wickedly.

Daryl looked at her warily, finally relaxing enough to snort at her and smirk. "Go ta sleep, woman. We got watch in the mornin'."

"Oh, fine," she huffed, sticking out her lower lip and pouting at him for effect. "You're no fun, you know that?"

His only response was another snort.

Carol laid back down, back to him and heart racing.

She didn't know what to make of what had just happened, and it was a long time before her racing mind finally let her drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl hadn't given what he had said or did regarding Carol that day any serious thought until he was by himself in the tent, cleaning his crossbow. Over the months it had become second nature to him to make sure that she was taken care of. No one else was looking out for her, that much was obvious, and he knew that she wasn't going to be nearly as safe in a tent with a pregnant woman and a kid than she would be with him. So he had done the sensible thing and spoke up. He didn't know what Rick was thinking, anyway, leaving his wife and boy to spend the night alone in a tent with Carol. Carl could handle a gun and take out walkers, but he wasn't a man yet.

And if Carol wanted a turn on watch, Daryl was fine with that. As long as he was the one she was partnered with. He'd taught her how to shoot over the winter, and damned if the woman wasn't getting good at it, but he didn't trust anyone else to look out for her and watch her back the way that he knew he would. It wasn't that he didn't think she could hold her own, it was just that he would rather keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe. He'd failed her once already with Sophia, and he wasn't about to fail her again.

She hadn't said a word to him when she'd come in to go to bed, and that's when the doubt crept in. Carol wasn't the same woman that she'd been at the quarry, or even at the Greene farm. The winter had hardened her, made her stronger and more independent. Daryl realized, belatedly, that he probably should have spoken to her about the sleeping arrangements. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he knew that he'd be pissed. Hell, he was already pissed at himself for just assuming that she'd be okay with going along with what he dictated. She was probably the best friend that he had, other than Rick, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her by acting like her asshole ex-husband.

It had taken a lot, though, just to ask her if she was mad at him, and her response embarrassed him and pissed him off. He was speaking plain English. Either she wanted to stay in the tent with him and T-Dog where it was safe, or she didn't. She acted like she didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

_Don't be a bitch, Darylena,_ Merle's voice had all but shouted at him from inside his head. _Ya ain't her keeper. She can pack her shit and get out if she don't wanna be here. Good riddance._

And Daryl told Carol as much, but not in so many words. What he hadn't been expecting was the outburst of anger from Carol, followed by words that bludgeoned his brain with the weight of their meaning.

"You should know by now that I don't sleep unless I know you're right here next to me!"

Her eyes went wide and she had slapped a hand over her mouth as if she was trying to keep anything else from coming out, but he had heard exactly what she had said. He felt the blood drain from his face as he processed the sentence and understanding dawned.

She wanted to be there. She needed to be near him.

Daryl's heart stopped beating for a minute, and then lurched back into motion, triple-time. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with that information, and it scared the shit out of him. He wasn't trying to be that man of honor she'd said she'd wanted. He knew damn well that he wasn't even in the same league as her. She was his friend, and he was trying to do right by her for that fact alone, but he didn't know how to be anything more for her. Even if he wanted to, there wasn't time for that shit. This was the apocalypse, and it was hard enough just surviving from day to day.

What came out of that woman's mouth next was even more unexpected than the last thing that she had said to him.

"And here I was, thinking you'd set all this up because you wanted to fool around. Pretty romantic, what with T-Dog on watch and the tent all to ourselves."

Daryl had to look at her to make sure he'd heard her correctly, and damned if the woman wasn't looking at him like she hadn't just said what she did, wiggling her eyebrows and giggling at him.

If it was anyone else teasing him like that, he would have beat their ass into the ground. He let this woman get away with way too much, and he knew it, but it was good to hear her laugh, even if it was at his expense.

He couldn't help but smirk at her, momentarily forgetting what else she had said to him as he snorted a reply. "Go ta sleep, woman. We got watch in the mornin'."

"Oh, fine," Carol huffed, sticking out her lower lip and pouting at him like some horny teen-aged girl. "You're no fun, you know that?"

Daryl snorted again as she rolled over and settled down to sleep, but he was awake for a long time afterwards, replaying her words in his head and wondering just what the hell it was that woman really wanted from him, and how the hell she thought he was going to be able to give it to her.

Sleepless nights were nothing new to him, but this was the first time he'd ever lost sleep over a woman. If the world hadn't already come to an end, Daryl Dixon was sure that this was his sign.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: The Walking Dead Universe and the characters that inhabit it are not mine. They just like to hang out in my brain and make me go crazy unless I type up what they say and upload it here.**

It felt like Carol had only been asleep for a few minutes when Glenn's low voice coming from outside the tent woke her up.

"Rise and shine, Daryl and Carol! Time for watch!" the young man sounded absurdly cheerful, and she could tell it annoyed Daryl by the way he jerked himself up and began yanking on his boots. She knew the hunter had gotten about as much sleep as she had. He'd tossed and turned next to her most of the night. Guiltily, Carol sighed and sat up, reaching for her shoes. She wasn't looking forward to the silent treatment that Daryl was probably planning on giving her, even if she knew that she deserved it for teasing him the way that she had.

"Come on, guys! Maggie and I are ready for bed," Glenn whined.

"Shut it, Short Round!" Daryl barked at him, pulling his poncho over his head angrily before grabbing his crossbow and yanking at the zipper door of the tent.

"Geez, who pissed in your corn flakes?" Glenn jumped back as the redneck stalked past him and headed off for the tree line.

"Don't mind Daryl, Glenn," Carol sighed, stepping out of the tent and zipping it closed behind her. "He didn't sleep too well last night."

Glenn chuckled as he handed her the rifle he had been carrying. "That's what he gets for throwing a slumber party."

"Glenn!" Carol found herself laughing along with him. "That's not nice!"

"I know. That's what makes it so funny," Glenn replied, still grinning. "It's been quiet. Just stay alert."

Carol nodded and shouldered the rifle. "We will. Now you, get some sleep. No staying up and having slumber parties of your own."

"Yes ma'am," Glenn saluted jauntily and headed off for his own tent.

Carol shook her head at his bright mood as she moved off towards Hershel's old SUV, which had been parked up by the road. It wasn't until she'd climbed on top of the vehicle and made a quick scan of the perimeter of the camp that Daryl reappeared from the trees and headed in her direction. She watched as he approached, looking everywhere but directly at her, and wondered how much of that was him being thorough and how much of it was how uncomfortable he probably was after her outburst last night.

She had caught herself by surprise with her confession, so Carol could hardly imagine just what it had done to Daryl. True, she'd resorted to playing dirty to distract him, but she knew him well enough by now to know that her admission had spooked him, at the very least. She felt horrible. He had enough to worry about taking care of the group like he did. He didn't need to be worrying that she might be trying to turn their friendship into something more than it really was.

Carol knew that she had to fix this situation before it spiraled out of control, but she didn't know where to begin.

* * *

Daryl stormed into the trees hoping to find a stray walker to vent his frustration on, but was sorely disappointed when none came stumbling out to meet him.

_Yer pussy whipped, ain't ya, Darylena?_ Merle's voice taunted him. _ Figured it wouldn't take ya long, without me there to keep yer dumb ass in line._

"Shut up," Daryl muttered, moving stealthily through the woods that surrounded the campsite, praying for just one walking corpse to cross his path.

_Ya went and got yourself a girlfriend, Darylena. Now whatcha gonna do? Live happily every after and all that shit? I taught you better than that, boy!_

"Shut. Up. Merle." Daryl grit his teeth and set his jaw. He hadn't laid awake all night just to listen to a ghost berate him for trying to survive in a world gone to shit.

Sometime after T-Dog had come back from watch and Carol's breathing had finally evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep, he'd finally admitted to himself that he wasn't just trying to do right by the woman because of his failure with Sophia. Hell, she was the one thing about the whole situation that kept him going. He could give two shits about the rest of the group if he was being brutally honest with himself. Carol was the one person who made sure that they were grounded, who cared enough to make sure that they had clean clothes and a hot meal in their stomachs when the day was said and done.

She might have said her fair share of harsh words, some of them directed towards him, but she'd never been selfish or unnecessarily cruel towards any of them. After what that woman had been through since he had known her, Daryl wondered just what it was that kept her going. When it had finally occurred to him that he might have something to do with that, he hadn't known how to handle it.

He was a Dixon, and Dixons weren't worth a rat's ass before the end of the world. Why on this godforsaken earth he should be worth something now, especially to Carol, was beyond him.

Glenn had interrupted the first moments of sleep he'd managed to steal all night, and it had done nothing for his mood. Finding the woods beyond camp clear of any immediate threat, Daryl realized that he had to go join Carol and tell her just exactly where he stood with her.

But he'd be damned if he even knew how to begin, so instead he resigned himself to whatever happened next, and left the safety of the trees to confront the woman who had kept him up all night without even knowing that she had.

* * *

Daryl nodded to her as he jumped up on the SUV, looking up and down the deserted road that they had made camp beside. Carol nodded back, knowing that she was going to have to be the one that broke the silence between them. She decided to start with something easy.

"Glenn said that it's been quiet. No walkers," she offered.

He nodded again. "Nothin' in the woods, neither."

"Feels like it's not as cold as it's been, though. That might be a problem," Carol replied, keeping conversation strictly business for now. It was still chilly, but she couldn't see her breath, and that meant that the walkers would be warming up and on the move soon. Her thoughts went to Lori, and the fact that the baby wasn't far off in coming. As if he could read her mind, Daryl huffed at her.

"We'll find a place. Haven't survived this long for that kid to come into this world without someone lookin' out for us," he glanced at her, and then averted his gaze back to the road.

"I'm still worried," Carol replied. "Can't help it."

"I know ya can't. But don't," he said in a low voice. "Everythin' will be fine. We'll all be fine. Now shut up, woman."

And just like that, Carol knew that it would be. She couldn't deny the fact that she was shocked he was even talking to her, but he'd known just what to say to belay her fears. It was the reason why she slept so well knowing he was next to her at night, and something told her that Daryl understood that, too. The silence that passed between them for the remainder of the watch was far more comfortable than she had expected it to be, and for that, she was grateful.

* * *

"Well, well, well! If it ain't my ol' pal Officer Friendly and his merry band of backstabbing walker bait."

Carol was in the tent packing up the bedding for both her and Daryl when she heard the loud voice shatter the relative peace and quiet that permeated the camp. There was something familiar about it that she couldn't quite place. She knew she'd heard it somewhere before - the swagger in the drawl and bravado in the insults were telling.

"Didn't think ya'll'd still be kickin' around, what with yer propensity to be abandonin' folks an' all," the familiar sounding stranger continued, and her curiosity got the better of her. Grabbing Daryl's revolver from his pack, Carol quietly edged her way out of the tent to see what was happening.

"That's my bike over yonder there, Officer Friendly. Now, did ya'll knock my baby brother over the head and leave'm for the walkers or somethin'? Because I don't see him here. And let me tell ya, that's really disturbin' my piece o'mind at the moment."

The sight that greeted Carol was more frightening than she had expected. Two strange men had guns trained on Glenn and T-Dog. The third man, the familiar voice, had a gun pointed directly at Rick's head. Recognition slowly dawned as she made her way closer to the spectacle unfolding around Hershel's SUV, Daryl's gun hidden behind her back. The man heckling Rick was standing with his back to her, but she took in his stance and build and knew immediately who it was. The wicked looking contraption attached to his other arm, ending in a long, dirty blade where the man's hand should have been, made her absolutely certain she was right.

A movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her, and Carol turned her head to see Maggie putting a finger to her lips and pointing towards Hershel's vehicle, where Carl was disappearing around the side. Maggie nodded to the gun behind Carol's back and patted her own side, motioning her head towards the man who held Glenn at gunpoint. Carol nodded in understanding.

She swallowed and pointed Daryl's gun directly at the back of his brother's head.


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Walking Dead. I do, however, wish that I owned the Reedus. **

_**A/N: This update has been too long in coming because of Real Life Things. I make no promises for when the next update might happen. But I do hope that you stay tuned.**_

"Now, Merle, it's not like that," Rick spoke in a placating tone. "Why don't you and your men put your guns down and we can talk?"

Carol watched Daryl's brother visibly tense and clicked the safety off of Daryl's gun.

"Now, now, Officer Friendly," Merle replied, "Why would I want ta do somethin' llike that? My baby bro is missin' , and I figure ya owe me a hand, at the least. Where's yer sense o'southern hospitality?"

"Merle!" Carol swallowed again, cocking the revolver in her hands , hoping to draw some of the attention her way so that Maggie and Carl could get into position.

"What's this, sugar tits?" Merle glanced behind himself, taking in the sight of a slight woman who he vaguely recognized with a very recognizable piece trained at his head. "Don't ya think Ed might not be too happy with ya pointin' my brother's piece at ma head?"

"Ed's dead, Merle," Carol replied in an even tone, desperately trying to quell the shaking in her hands as she kept the gun raised and Daryl's brother in her sights. "Daryl is out hunting. He'll be back soon, and I don't think he'd appreciate coming back to camp and finding his friends dead."

"Is that so?" Merle drawled, turning ever so slightly to get a better look at her. "You and my brother, y'all a thing now that Ed is gone? I don't recall him ever lettin' a woman touch his gun before."

Carol froze. She had no idea how to fit the truth about what was going on between her and the younger Dixon brother into something as easily described as a 'thing'. And yet, that seemed the most appropriate way to classify it. It was a 'thing' the likes of which only could be explained by the circumstances that had let up to it.

"You could call it that," she conceded, nodding towards the men that held Glenn and T-Dog at gunpoint. "You wanna call off your dogs before he gets back and puts an arrow through their heads, or do we have to take care of them ourselves?"

Maggie and Carl had taken full advantage of her momentary distraction and now stood in full view of all parties involved, guns trained on Merle's accomplices. Carol didn't miss the fleeting look of surprise that crossed Merle's face before he broke out into a disarming grin and abruptly lowered his gun.

"Well shit, sugar tits. If you wanted to invite us to stay for coffee and have a reunion, all's ya had to do was ask."

* * *

Daryl was getting pissed. He'd tracked a smallish buck most of the morning, managed to shoot it, and had dragged it halfway back to camp before having to defend the carcass against several walkers that had appeared while he was mulling over what to do about Carol. He'd gotten them all, or so he had thought, when he'd turned to find one he'd missed tearing into the belly of his kill.

"Mealy brained fuck!" he exclaimed, kicking the walker in the teeth before bashing it in the skull with his crossbow. He had a few squirrels and a fat woodchuck dangling from the string slung over his shoulder. That was going to have to do. He left the buck where it lay and picked up his pace back to the others.

Meanwhile, he had no idea what to do about the situation with Carol. He'd meant to set things straight while they'd held watch earlier that morning, but it had been easier just to fall into the more comfortable routine that was theirs and leave the heavy talk for another time.

_Cuz yer a pussy, Darylena._ Merle's voice whispered in his ear. _A big. Fat. Pussy._

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MERLE!" Daryl roared in a rage, not realizing how close he'd come to camp as he stomped between two trees and found himself in the familiar clearing, where all eyes were suddenly wide and staring at him.

What Daryl wasn't expecting, however, was the set of eyes that he knew far too well and had never expected to see again.

"What, baby bro? I can't thank yer little woman here for this fine cup o'coffee?" Merle raised the steaming mug to his lips and smirked, winking at his little brother from his seat by the campfire. Daryl looked on in disbelief as Carol blushed and turned away.


End file.
